


‘Tis a Night at Jacknife Jed’s

by Joel7th



Series: If the World Should End [3]
Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: F/M, M/M, Post-Season/Series 03, Threesome - F/M/M, implied richie x seth, kate loves both of them, they both love kate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 18:30:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9250382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joel7th/pseuds/Joel7th
Summary: While the boys were occupied with their business, Kate found some ways to entertain herself at Jacknife Jed’s, mostly by dressing up, having a few drinks and attracting attention from some male patrons.





	

This was just another night at Jacknife Jed’s, where Kate put on a little makeup, wore a little perfume – nothing too bold – and her more favorite pristine dress that left her pale arms bare and revealed just a delicious hint of her breasts through delicately woven lace. She liked it for the lace, especially when the boys caught it in their teeth, gnawing playfully until she either melted in their arms or pushed them harshly down the mattress, depending on which role she preferred at that moment – innocent little angel or wicked mistress of hell. She still had to remind them not to ruin her clothing though, especially the one with fangs and a tendency to rip, yet her boys were forgetful at times. However for every piece they wrecked, deliberately or not, they sought to compensate her with two, so she didn’t find it in her heart to complain. And when she said “boys”, she meant only two, neither of whom being here to entertain her. But that was fine; even by herself, Kate wouldn’t be deprived of entertaining resources. Her fingers, adorned with antique silver rings her boys had unearthed from the previous owner’s stash, tapped on the wooden surface and her feet, clad in black leather ankle boots and dangling from the tall chair she was sitting, swung slightly in tune with the loud music blaring. The music wasn’t to her taste but she was in good enough mood to enjoy it as much as the man sitting near her, hunched over his drink while glancing sideway to appreciate the sway of a certain waitress’s hips.

“Missy, that man’s been eyeing you for at least a quarter of an hour,” whispered a voice into her ears.

As she turned her head to the voice, which sounded familiarly British to her, she encountered a pair of purple-blue eyes veiled behind a curtain of thick pale eyelashes. The eyes gleamed as if coated by a sheen of liquid, and while Kate sometimes teased their owner that he appeared to be constantly tearing, she always thought how immensely beautiful they were. Eyes to drown in, in honor of cliché.

He wasn’t tearing at the moment, of course; in fact he was wearing a congenial smile befitting his profession – a dedicated bartender on his working shift. He had just finished preparing the order of some customer when he leaned in and confided to her. The reason Kate allowed his invasion of her personal space without so much as a frown was because he wasn’t just a bartender to cater to her needs; if there was someone here Kate would call her ‘best friend’, it was no doubt this easy-on-the-eye young man.

His name was Charles but everyone around here endearingly referred to him as Charlie. Richie had found him in some deserted alleyway, all black and blue, dirty and penniless – too pitiable to eat even for a starving culebra, picked him up (quite literally), brought him to Jacknife Jed’s and nursed him back to health. The story of how a transferred student from Shoreditch, who had landed on American land to study mixology, had ended up in this miserable state half a country away from his intended place was gut-wrenching, long and complicated, one Charlie wasn’t comfortable to share with anybody other than his _jefe_ (savior) and his best friend. Having arrived at Jacknife Jed’s roughly the same time (though under different circumstances) and being about the same age had them strike up an instant friendship which, Kate admitted, was strange and unlike any friendships she’d had before.

To be fair, back then, Kate had been a dutiful preacher’s daughter dating a boy from the choir, not this partner-in-crime of two criminals living amongst predators. She doubted if she could even recognize herself if they were to meet.

“Who?” Kate asked, not entirely surprised that she’d been gathering attention to herself. When she put on her makeup, donned this dress and stepped in these boots, she intended to harvest attention, other men’s attention, not her boys’; her boys liked her makeup-free, barefooted and wrapped only in their own white shirts or nothing at all – less was more for them, obviously. She turned her head. “Is that drugstore cowboy in the left corner?”

“Yeah,” Charlie confirmed. “His gaze’s so intense it’s hard to misinterpret what’s going on inside his head.”

“Oh, I wonder what he might be thinking,” Kate said, directing her eyes to him. When their eyes met, she put on her smile and raised her glass. As he caught on her hint, she downed her drink in one gulp. The leftover liquid glistened on her lips like a layer of lip gloss.

Watching their interaction with a mildly amused expression, Charlie cocked his blonde head. “Shall I prepare another drink for you, Missy?” he asked. “Same thing or different?”

“That won’t be necessary, Charlie. Call it a hunch but I think someone’s gonna pay for my next drink.”

“You never pay for your drinks, Missy. Nor do you tip me ever.”

“I did ask your bosses to give you a raise.”

Charlie chuckled good-humoredly, straightened his back and was ready to serve another customer who just sat down on one of the empty chairs lined up alongside the counter. At the same time Drugstore Cowboy was approaching Kate, holding his tumbler in hand. Something of dark amber with a melting cube of ice. Perhaps whiskey.

Up close, he looked somewhere in the middle, too old to be hitting on teenagers without the legal risk but still young enough to venture into a place like Jacknife Jed’s in this sort of flashy outfit. His visage wasn’t hideous and Kate would say it was attractive in a strange sort of way, with square stubbly jaw, nose that was little too big and grey eyes a little too small to be normally proportioned. His cheeks were gaunt and his mouth, again, a little too wide, making his smile appear predatory, like a shark’s if sharks could smile. He was flashing that smile at Kate while striding toward her, his gait exuding the desire to impress and intimidate her at the same time. In his mind, he probably believed that was exactly the way she wanted; he was cocksure in his judgment, his confidence practically seeping out from his every pore. It wasn’t a pleasant smell.

Kate refused to live up to his expectation. She kept her relaxed posture, leaning a little over the counter on her left arm, her head slightly tilting and her legs crossing. She countered his smile with her own, adding in a bit of her inner-Amaru (yes, the queenly bitch had stayed in her veins in spite of everything but Kate reigned it now rather than it did her, turning once handicap into advantage) to deliberately mar her innocent façade. Her glass sat on the counter, gleamingly empty and begging to be filled.

While Drugstore Cowboy hardly impressed Kate, something of him caught her interest instead. Something _on_ him, to be more precise. On his left breast was a bronze badge of unique design. Because of its special look, Kate recognized it at first glance as a replica of a badge worn by the sheriff – the one Seth and Richie had referred to as the ‘cool guy’ – in an old western movie they’d picked for her (compulsory) ‘cinematic education’, as they’d put it. And what an intricate replica it was; Seth would love something like that even though he would never say it out loud – afraid that she would laugh at his childishness and perhaps think less of him, he who always tried to act like the ‘big bro’ in their trio. Kate imagined how his face would light up if she gave him something like this, how he’d try to appear nonchalant although inside he was squeeing like the little fanboy he was and how Richie would feign jealousy and demand his present as well. The thought of them brought a real curve to the seams of her lips.

“If I may ask, are you even legal to sit in this bar?” Drugstore Cowboy asked, leaning over the counter and tipping his hat slightly.

Kate thought it strange to wear a hat inside but understood it was necessary to complete the outfit. “The guard let me in without asking for my ID,” she replied, shrugging. Nothing but the truth.

“Well, that’s as much legal as a place like Jacknife Jed’s can get,” said Drugstore Cowboy, a glint in his grey eyes. “The name’s James Gordon. What’s yours?”

Kate took his hand and shook, lightly and quickly. “My name’s Kate.”

Charlie had handed the customer his ordered drink and now turned to James and Kate with a ready-to-serve smile. His eagerness, partly stemmed from his curiosity and largely from his over-concerned _jefe_ ’s request, amused Kate; thanks to their age gap and potentially his trauma at witnessing her death, Richie kept forgetting that she was already a woman grown and fully capable of defending herself against most sources of offenses, supernatural or not, and his overprotectiveness could be suffocating as well as loving. On the other hand, Seth might look cool, waving off Richie’s worry as if his little brother was making a fuss, but he’d given the staff the green light to ‘duly deal with’ any man hitting on her. It wasn’t good for business, Kate thought yet said not a word.

“May I help you with anything, sir?” Charlie asked.

“I’m good, kid,” James replied, swaying his tumbler in his hand. “But the little lady’s glass is empty and it’s never good to sit in a bar with an empty glass. Can I buy you a drink, Kate?”

Kate chose to ignore his condescending choice of words for now. “Another cosmo just like the last, please.”

“Right away, my lady.”

As Charlie was preparing her drink, James took the chair next to hers, placing his drink on the wooden counter with a dull thud. His musky cologne was too strong for her liking; her boys usually wore something more subtle or preferred the natural scent. Her nostrils itched with a sneeze but she contained it.

There was something else, a different smell, that she caught lurking beneath the cologne. A hint of frost was reflected in her eyes but for a half second.

“Cosmo… humph, I’d say, not a bad choice but definitely not the best.”

Kate’s smile cleared the frost in her eyes. “The bartender here adds to the conventional cosmo recipe, making it his unique yummy version. And it’s a safe choice, so that’s a plus.”

“I didn’t take you for the type to go with safe, honestly,” James said, chuckling. “How about something with a little more fire? Dry martini maybe?”

Charlie was quick as he’d always been and Kate’s cosmopolitan was sitting in front of her. She raised her glass. “I’ve never tried martini but a change won’t hurt, right? Is it too bold for me to ask if I could have a second?”

James clinked his tumbler with her glass and said, “Of course. My pleasure.”

And then they both drank.

…

Kate’d had her dry martini as promised; in fact, she’d had two because after she’d complimented the first martini, James ordered a second. After a few small sips, she excused herself to go to the bathroom, claiming she’d gone a bit tipsy. That was a lie – her time with the brothers had significantly strengthened her tolerance of alcohol and her Xibalban blood wouldn’t allow her to get hammered without some serious try, like really serious. Yet, like a naive, careless girl a bit too young to sit in this bar, she had had to leave her unfinished drink on the counter to a stranger. Truth was, Kate was baiting him. Earlier she’d grasped something from him that spelled fishy and she wanted to find out if he would act on it.

Perhaps because the queen of hell was able to read every mortal’s soul, her blood in Kate had given her a fraction of that ability. While Kate was far from reading a soul, she could, if she concentrated, pick up smells, which were accurate indicators of a soul’s intentions. The desire to take a life was unsurprisingly like blood left for a while in dry air, greed smelled like dirty money bills passed around by too many hands and rage had an acrid smell like plastic burned, et cetera. She smelled spicy savagery on Richie when he fed and bitter ruthlessness on Seth every time he pulled the trigger. When they were with each other and with her, their affectionate lust had a rich sweet scent like ripe apples. In contrast, James’ was a nauseously sweet smell of rotten fruits, made all the worse by the unmistakable stench of domination. She subconsciously wrinkled her nose remembering it.

She was making her way back to the bar when Charlie met her at the corner. He was having one hand on his hip and a mildly annoyed look on his face, his easy smile absent. “I saw Drugstore Cowboy slip a cute tiny pill into your drink,” he stated, gesturing with his free hand towards the bar. “I may not know what the bloody hell it’ll do but I have enough brain cells to figure it can’t be anything legal or decent.”

Nothing out of her prediction at all. “Oh,” she let out an amused sound, the corners of her lips curving.

“As I caught him, he said ‘she’s practically asking for it’,” he said, mimicking James’s heavy accent, “and promised me a fat tip.”

“He’s right,” replied Kate, “I’m kinda ‘asking for it’.”

“Shall I teach him a lesson? Just say the word, Missy, and Drugstore Cowboy’s in for a cowboy ride of a lifetime.” He lowered his voice, cupping his free hand around her ear. “The other boss said it’s OK.”

Right after he had finished the sentence, his eyes shifted, the purple-blue transcending to amber and his pupils slit. The skin under his eyes receded for reptilian blue scales to emerge. If she strained her ears, she could hear his bones cracking beneath flesh and skin.

“No, no, no, Charlie,” Kate said, patting his shoulder and vaguely feeling his bones rippling under his white shirt. “You saw nothing and you will do nothing except getting your big fat tip. Sometimes I feel your bosses are underpaying you.”

His eyes reverted to normal and his skin smoothed out as she no longer felt the rippling movement underneath her fingertips. “The benefits more or less compensate for the pay so I’m not complaining. You’re cool, Missy?”

“Yeah, I’m cool. I can handle our drugstore cowboy and his shenanigans just like last time. Go back before I do so it won’t tickle his spidey sense.”

“Just like last time?” Charlie echoed with an arch of his eyebrow and a twinkle in his eyes.

“Yeah, just like last time, so wait for my cue, will you?”

“Whatever you say, Missy,” he replied, allowing himself to be ushered out of the corner.

Back to the old job already, Kate thought to herself, reminiscing once upon a time in Mexico and a good friend who’d been torched in the unforgiving Mexican sun to save her life and Seth’s.

…

“It’s much larger than it appears, Jacknife Jed’s,” Kate said when James and her were in one of the nicer, least bumpy elevator, preserved only for the brothers and her. “And certainly deeper. Sometimes I imagine it penetrates all the way to the bowel of the Earth.”

“Can’t judge a book by its cover, right?”

“Sometimes you could,” Kate said with a smile, leaning against the rail to reinforce her guise. The intoxicated guise.

As soon as she returned from the bathroom, she consumed the remaining of her drink; she needed James to believe that his devious scheme had worked for her own scheme to work. After that, it wasn’t really difficult to coax James into thinking she was ready to head home, or just any place providing a soft mattress to retire her body because the alcohol’s effect was starting to kick in, preferably with his company. Then, trying to be ‘helpful’ and hopefully getting more tip like any bartender would, Charlie suggested the underground facility for customers with ‘other’ needs. James laughed and expressed genuine surprise that Jacknife Jed’s provided such a service. He had thought it was merely a bar slash diner, a stop for travelers who needed to eat or piss, sometimes both.

Only at customers’ demand. Kate and Charlie exchanged a discreet knowing look when James fulfilled his promise by putting some dollar bills into the tip jar. The biggest tip he’d had in the day, Charlie said with a bow to James who was leading Kate by the hand to the elevator.

“Sure,” James answered, eyeing her with less restraint than when they’d been in others’ presence, “take you, for example. When I thought you were a risk-taking one, you opted for safe. And when I was almost convinced you were sweet and innocent cherry pie, you showed streaks of mischief.” His gaze lingered at the milky skin both revealed and hidden by the lace, imagining how the rest of her would look like without any fabric. She was raising a dangerous flag but who cared, not him anyway. If someone thought of finding evidence for a legal case in a place between roads like Jacknife Jed’s, he shouldn’t be in the legal profession at all.

Kate met his eyes. “You just have to find out.”

“Don’t worry, baby girl, I will.”

Then he proceeded to close their distance and press his lips against hers. Kate ducked, slipping out of his reach at the same time a chime announced they had reached their destination. “Good things come to those who wait,” she said, promptly stepping out of the elevator and walking down the corridor. The flame was blazing in James’s eyes as he followed her.

Kate opened a door and turned on the lights. The fluorescent tubes provided enough light to see things but weren’t glaring and exposing all flaws on a girl’s face despite careful makeup. She closed the door after James, who was busy examining the movie posters littered on the wall, and picked up the landline phone, decorated like a prop from a roaring 20s movie set. “Tell the _jefe_ that I’m in the master room and want him to come down here,” she spoke, low-voiced, in fluent Spanish when the other line was picked up, “yes, and hurry, please.”

“Who’re you calling?” James asked, stalking over to her.

Hanging up, she replied, “Room service. The staff speak only Spanish but fortunately I can speak a little thanks to my time in high school.”

Once again she side-stepped and ducked his reaching hand. James’s expression began to wrinkle with frustration.

“Hush, before we begin I have something to tell you, sort of a little confession. The night is young and we have plenty of time, yes?”

James grunted but sat down on the bed anyway. “This bed is way too big it’s strange, don’t you think?”

Kate nodded. “It is, custom-made to accommodate three adults.”

“Three?”

“Yes. And to be completely honest, I’m not a patron of Jacknife Jed’s. I particularly live here.” She chuckled. “That’s why no guards asked for my ID despite me looking every bit underage.”

James’s bushy eyebrows knitted. “What? You’re part of the staff?”

By staff, of course he meant ‘that’ kind of staff.

It wouldn’t shock him at all if this place was to be a pleasure house as well.

“No, but this is—” her eyes traveled around the walls, painted in turquoise – her choice, “my room. Well, our room. The other two aren’t here but soon they’ll be.”

James sprung from the bed, straightening his back and squaring his shoulders. “What game are you playing? What do you mean by ‘the other two’?”

As if on cue, the door was pushed open and a tall figure walked in. Taller than himself, James estimated, with better build under fitting black suit and a pair of ice-blue eyes behind browline glasses. The eyes were fixed on James for a few seconds before moving to Kate, where their gaze got significantly softer. For a moment James felt a snake slithering up his spine, leeching warmth with its scaly skin as it traveled. Instantly he knew he had low chance of victory should he get into a fight with this man.

But why would he get into a fight with a perfect stranger?

“Kate,” the man sighed.

Kate’s smile broadened. “James, may I introduce you to one of the bosses running Jacknife Jed’s?” There’s two, by the way.”

The eyes were on James again, speaking of murder. Stranger said not a word.

“Richie, this is James, whom I met earlier at the bar,” she said, beaming and gesturing to James. “… who also slipped a cute tiny pill into my drink. I have no ideas what it’ll do to me. Do you?”

A bead of swear formed at James’s temple. “What—I…?”

“Did you consume it?”

The eyes had left James to seek for her.

Kate pouted. “I may be younger than you but I’m not dumb. Charlie switched the drink for me.”

“Clever bastard.” A dry, humorless chuckle. “It could have made you stoned as dead or high as fuck, whichever is convenient to his intention.”

The bead of sweat rolled a tortuous trail down the side of James’s face and got absorbed by his collar. He reached into the butterfly knife in his pocket, finding little assurance in the cool steel. Everything about that little bitch screamed jailbait yet in a hormonal rush he had waved off every fucking red flag because damn was she a delicious cherry pie begging him to savor. He began to regret ever stepping into that elevator. What was the odds of him getting out of this mess unscathed? Wait, fuck unscathed. He needed to get the fuck out of this room, well, out of this place really, even if he had to commit a few murders. Two, if he was lucky. He doubted it would take long for the rest of this snake pit to notice they’d lost two.

“So what?” James asked, inching closer to the door.

Kate was having that innocent look which had hooked him as she shrugged. “Well, nothing, except it’s dinner time. You hungry, Richie?”

“As if I could eat a horse,” Richie deadpanned, leering at James.

James than bore witness to the strangest thing ever: the man’s eyes turned into amber, the color a stark contrast to the black of his pupils, two thin vertical strips akin to a snake’s. Around his forehead and temples, something that looked like… what, scales, formed on top of human skin. He opened his mouth, baring two long, pointed fangs and let out a bestial growl.

It was a sound worse than anything James’s heard.

This was bad, real bad. Who knew it would go from potential porno to B-movie shit this quick? Certainly not James.

He reacted with a hundred percent instinct. The knife came out of his pocket and aimed to bury its edge into the nearest neck.

The man, scratch that, fucking beast, did not stand still and received the blow. He held his left hand up and as result, the knife was lodged in his palm instead. He tore it from James’s grip with a strength that a wounded hand should not possess. Blood from the wound dotted the cream carpet.

“Shit!” James cursed, plunging his bare fist forward. At this point, he wasn’t confident that a punch could knock the beast out, so he poured in all his strength plus a little extra from his fear and desire to get out of this cursed place.

His fist was caught in vice-like grip. James’s vision went short-circuited at the same time a crunching sound echoed in his ears, coupled with intense pain. Must be his nose. His back landed on the ground, his bones rattling.

He heard something metal hitting the cement, probably the knife, and a male voice. It spoke, “That’s why I’ve established the ‘no eating in the bedroom’ rule. Hard to clean up after.”

And a female voice, undoubtedly Kate, replied, “Right, duly noted. Do you mind? Your dinner seems to be waiting.”

Amidst the pain and the fresh blood drenching his face instead of sweats, James managed to open his eyes. The last thing he saw was amber eyes and gleaming fangs.

Kate stood in the corner, watching Richie consuming his meal with silent fascination. The Kate Fuller of the past would never have laid eyes on a scene like this, let alone enjoyed it. That girl was dead, as Kate had told Seth, dead and buried. From her dried blood and rotted flesh, the new Kate Fuller had been born and she, with a fragment of Amaru flowing in her veins, breathed in violence like oxygen.

With the brothers by her side, she would never be deprived.

The spicy aroma pervading the air between her and Richie was that of a well-made enchilada. Kate inhaled deeply.

…

Jacknife Jed’s was pretty quiet when Seth drove into the garage. Charlie gave him a chilled beer with a smile as he passed the bar on the way to the elevator. Though he’d kind of gotten used to it after having seen it almost every day for the past four months, Seth had yet to shake off the odd feeling in his guts whenever Charlie flashed that smile as him. He smiled easily, that was for sure, and others found his smiles sweet and charming, Richie and Kate not excluded, and everything they were looking for in a bartender but not Seth. Perhaps Seth was the strange one here but he couldn’t help being a bit weirded out by someone who seemed to be perpetually smiling regardless of whatever shit life was dumping at his face (it was disturbing), and so he didn’t get very chummy with the boy like every other at Jacknife Jed’s. It certainly didn’t help that Charlie’s _wayob_ , as Richie had put it, or special culebra power, was giving his designated target a five-minute ride to heaven or hell with his eyes. Seth wasn’t sure how that was useful in a fight but he made sure he never wanted to try it. It amazed him how Richie had discovered and literally picked up such a peculiar thing in an alleyway like people did a stray pup.

Still, as long as that pup did his job well and didn’t sink his canine into any undesired neck, Seth didn’t think it was in his principal to give him a hard time.

The door to his, no, their bedroom wasn’t locked – only was when the three of them were away – and the lights were on so Seth figured it was occupied. The voices from behind confirmed his belief.

Seth heard his brother’s voice first, speaking something in Spanish that his own shitty Spanish failed to translate. Okay, that was weird. As far as he was concerned, although the three of them was basically living amongst Spanish-speaking culebras – even the British Charlie was fluent (bizarre!), Kate was the only one able to manage an undisrupted conversation in this language; Richie’s was as thick a head as Seth’s. Had he been taking lessons without Seth’s knowledge?

Right after that, Seth’s ears picked up Kate’s yelping and laughing and thudding sounds that probably meant her tiny fists punching Richie’s shoulders. She often punched Seth in the same manner too, when he was in dirty-humor mood and told her an R-rated version of the bird and bee story. He guessed whatever joke Richie had just just made, and in Spanish no less, was lewd enough to embarrass their little princess.

“Did I miss something?”

Seth opened the door and stepped in, announcing his presence with his question. He found Richie sitting on the edge of the bed and Kate lying on her stomach, still clad in the same white dress he had seen in the early evening, her leather boots carelessly discarded near the nightstand. They didn’t seem to be engaging, or had just finished, some adult action and Seth appreciated that. They knew he disliked being left out in any of their shared activities.

“Dinner, obviously,” Kate answered. “And Richie’s just become trilingual.”

“You? Trilingual?” Seth’s surprise wasn’t feigned.

Richie shrugged. “I don’t just suck blood, you know. I absorb knowledge, skills, special talents et cetera.”

“Turns out he didn’t boast when he said could speak Spanish and what, Chinese?” Kate asked.

“Japanese actually. It may come in handy someday.”

“Who’s this ‘he’ you’re talking about? Someone I know?”

“Another thing you missed,” Kate replied.”

“Some drugstore cowboy,” Richie continued seamlessly, “who spiked Kate’s drink, hoping to get wild with her.”

Seth’s face immediately darkened and his voice when he spoke was edged with frost. “Where’s that motherfucker?”

He didn’t bother to veil his intention of going all American Psycho on said motherfucker.

In contrast, Kate’s expression was that of amusement. “You’re stepping on him,” she said, gazing at his Italian shoes.

“What?”

Alarmed, Seth lifted one foot off the ground, checking his sole. All he saw was that he’d accidentally stepped on some ash.

Why was there ash in their bedroom, cleaned once a day? Oh, right.

“Drank him, turned him, staked him,” said Richie with a snap of his fingers. “Kate’s idea of cleaning up after mealtime.”

“Smart” was all Seth’s reply.

Kate sat up, crossing her legs. She leaned over to the nightstand and said,” Got something for you, Seth”, throwing something at him. He caught – perfect reflex – and examined the object. The earlier dark clouds retreated and his face lit up as he did. “This is…”

Both Kate and Richie saw how hard he was trying to control the muscles around his mouth to not squee like a little fanboy he (secretly) was. They exchanged a smile.

“Sheriff Cool’s limited-edition badge. I remember, don’t I? Richie got two languages, you got your favorite sheriff’s badge and I’m being fair,” Kate sing-sang.

Richie agreed.

“Now,” Kate drawled, sprawling on the massive bed, her chest heaving under the lace, “what will you guys give me in return?”

_End_

**Author's Note:**

> In 3×01 – Head Games, Richie mentioned that he had turned a bartender. I took the liberty to give that bartender a name and included him in this story.
> 
> This story happens in the same universe as another FDTD fanfic I wrote, Don’t Think About Tomorrow (We’ve Only Got Today), so Richie x Seth isn’t excluded.
> 
> Comments are much appreciated.


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